


The Very First Case of Page & Murdock

by prompt_fills



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angst, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Friendship, Gen, Law School, Minor Character Death, Multi, Role Reversal, Shippy Gen, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8897911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prompt_fills/pseuds/prompt_fills
Summary: Karen meets Matt in her first semester at law school. Foggy is their first suspect.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elizabeth Culmer (edenfalling)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenfalling/gifts).



“Hey! Watch it!” Karen says when a guy flops down to the seat next to her. Sure, the seat’s been empty anyway but the polite thing here would be to ask.

She quickly grabs her cup of coffee because the guy looks clumsy enough to knock it off her desk with his elbow. Not that the coffee is any good but it would still do more good in her stomach than spilled over her stuff.

“Sorry. I didn’t see you there,” the guy says, turning to Karen. He has a charming smile and Karen starts returning it automatically.

The guy is tall and fit and also an complete jackass because it’s eight o’clock in the morning, they’re sitting inside an auditorium, and he is wearing sunglasses.

“Sure, of course you can sit down,” Karen says imploringly. “The seat’s not taken at all.”

“Thanks.” The smile gets even brighter. “I’m Matt.”

“Paige,” Karen bites out and ostentatiously ignores the hand Matt extends to her.

The guy goes perfectly still. “Nice to meet you, Paige.”

There is something about the way he pronounces Karen’s name that raises red flags. She feels herself tensing, preparing to be called out on her lie.

“You from around here? Strange accent, I can’t place it.”

“Saco, Maine,” Karen replies, automatic. She’s had hours and hours and hours of practising. This part is easy, she’s answered the same question seventeen times just today.

The guy doesn’t seem to like her answer. There is this weird tilt of his head and the charming smile is gone altogether.

Before she could ask him any questions in return, the door to the auditorium opens and a professor in his late 70s slowly walks into the room. He has a tuft of white hair atop of his head, a neon green tie and a black suit. He scans the room in one quick accessing glance, then makes his way to the podium.

“Good morning, everyone. Someone come pick the attendance sheets and circle them around.”

A skinny guy from the first row jumps on his feet. The professor’s eye bore into him as he hands over the papers.

“Now. I want you to introduce yourself. Name, city, previous school and a reason why are you taking my classes. And bear in mind that there is over five hundred of you so you better make it quick. Let’s start at the back. Please, young man, stand up and say your name.”

By the time the first fifty students introduce themselves, they’ve run out of reasons why they’re here. The professor is growing more and more amused by each new ass-licking reason and Karen doesn’t like it one bit.

She can’t say the real reason why she’s here – to find a way to get my boyfriend’s killer behind the bars – and she’s sick of using up all her stock responses.

“Paige Angel, from Saco HSME. I’m here to boost my GPA,” she hears herself answering when it’s her turn.

The auditorium falls silent. All eyes turn on her. Shit, shit, shit. That’s the exact opposite of what she wanted. Don’t draw any attention, stay away from everyone and don’t let anyone get too close.

Into the silence, Matt raises up, his seat squeaking. “Me too! I’m Matt, local, graduated from Manhattan Bridges High School this fall,” he announces cheerily and flops right back into his seat.

Karen slowly sits down, too.

**…**

They’re finally let outside for the lunch break and Karen with Matt get caught together by the scrimmage as everyone gets up to exit through the only two doors leading out of the auditorium.

The crowd presses them together and takes them outside where it spews them out on the pavement. Everyone goes their own way, not caring one bit to take a moment to appreciate the beauty that surrounds them. Karen perks up.

“Wow, it’s been snowing,” she exclaims with a happy grin. She turns to Matt. “I feel cheated! We’ve been holed up in there the whole morning and didn’t get to see the first snowfall of the season. That’s so unfair.”

“Very unfair,” Matt agrees, zipping his jacket up to his chin.

Karen can’t see much of his expression because everything reflects in his sunglasses. She can see her own distort reflection, all chubby and weird. She can see her own smile – she’s easily excitable, especially when it comes to winter and snow. She loves the season.

Karen spins around and breathes in deeply. The air is fresh and crisp.

Matt is standing there, a little awkwardly. He isn’t watching the snow like Karen but he doesn’t seem to be staring at her either.

His brand of weird is starting to grow o her quickly. “So, heading for lunch?”

This time, Matt’s smile is weaker. “Yeah,” he says. “Can I join you?”

“Sure,” Karen says.

Matt reaches out with his arm like he’s offering Karen to hang onto him, which is truly ridiculous but she does it anyway, stepping closer to him and slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow. Only, Matt tries to do the exact same thing and it throws Karen off balance and then Matt really has to grip her tight to keep them both upright. Matt tenses up. The moment she regains her footing, he withdraws his hands.

“Sorry, I thought…” Matt doesn’t finish his sentence.

Karen has no idea what to say in reply. She shuffles her feet, tracing patterns into the snow, her eyes dancing around.

And that’s when she sees it. Right where she scraped off enough snow to see the pavement beneath. “Oh my God,” Karen says, voice raising up to a shrill. “Oh my God!!!”

“What? What is it?”

“Can’t you see?!” Karen shouts hysterically.

“As a matter of fact, I can’t,” Matt says, a cold edge cutting into his voice.

“Look,” Karen says, pointing out the dark smudge under her feet. She is backing up even as she says it.

Matt draws himself up, standing tall. There is something instinctive about the way she slips to his side and he wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her a little behind himself, shielding her.

She can feel the warmth radiating from his body but it’s not helping her any with her nerves. She starts shivering.

“What is it?” The tone of Matt’s voice is sharp and focused, nothing like Karen has heard from him before.

Karen fumbles for her phone, nearly dropping it. Her heart is going haywire. “Ohmygod,” she says. She can’t recall the number. Shit.

“Talk to me. What is it?”

Matt’s breathing is even and he is tilting his head to one side again as if he’s trying to hear whatever it is that spooked Karen.

“Nothing,” Karen finally says, trying to get herself under control. There is no reason for her to drag Matt into this.

“Tell me.”

“It’s just those drops of blood,” she says, pointing with the tip of her shoe and quickly covering them by piling the surrounding snow back onto the tale-telling marks.

Matt’s nose scrunches up. “Blood?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing. It just startled me. Someone probably got a nosebleed,” Karen says, forcing out a laugh. A nosebleed. Not bloody likely.

Matt is frowning at her, his face scrunching up. It seems to be a common expression of his. “Are you–”

“Hey Paige! Heads up!”

Karen ducks in time – but Matt doesn’t and the hurled snowball catches him in his jaw. Matt’s head snaps to the side, lips parting with a soft gasp.

“Sorry dude!” Christian says, jogging up to them.

“Christian,” Karen greets him, only barely managing a polite tone. Not now!

“Hi, Angel. How are you?”

“Hey,” Karen says. “You wanted something?”

“To tell you the lunch is shit as always, don’t waste your time. What do you say I treat you to a proper lunch? There is this restaurant down the street that–”

“I say no,” Karen cuts in quickly. “Just as I always do, Christian.”

“You wound me, my Angel,” Christian sighs theatrically.

“Sorry,” Karen says without feeling sorry in the slightest. “I already promised Matt to be his lunch date.” She takes a step back towards Matt, leaning against his arm and smiling coyly up at him. Matt doesn’t react to the gaze at all but Christian makes a choking sound and backs off.

“I’ll catch you later, Angel! If you fall, I’ll catch you!”

“What–?”

Karen sighs. “No questions about Christian.”

“Okay,” Matt agrees slowly, brushing the snow from his face. It seems the snowball shattered against his sunglasses because now they’re sitting all crooked on his face.

“Sorry,” Karen says, reaching up to brush her thumb against Matt’s stubble, trying to get the snow away.

Matt flinches at the touch, then tries to mask it as a coughing fit. Karen pulls her hands back.

Matt reaches for his sunglasses, takes them off and wipes them with his sleeve. “So, your name is really Paige Angel?”

“Yes,” Karen lies. She glances up again and she can’t help the soft startled gasp when she finds herself staring into the bottomless pits of Matt’s warm chocolate eyes. Matt’s gaze is unfocused, his eyes unseeing.

“You…” Karen stops herself from blurting out the obvious fact just in time.

One moment there is a tiny, displeased purse of Matt’s lips and the next one it’s gone, so he can probably tell what Karen is thinking anyway.

Karen gulps and doesn’t say anything. Matt finished wiping his sunglasses free of snow and puts them back on.

Karen takes Matt’s hand and places it gently onto her forearm, holding it there with her other hand. She takes a first step towards the cafeteria. “You look cold,” she says.

Matt lets her walk them to the building, the snow crunching beneath their feet.

**…**

They make their way across the campus and it takes them much longer than it usually does when Karen is on her own. She likes to walk briskly, slipping past the groups of people who are walking at the snail’s pace instead of getting stuck behind them.

Now she’s one of the people who are blocking the path and the others have to hurry past them.

Matt’s hand is really warm, despite the cold. He isn’t even wearing gloves but she is still very aware of the heat spreading through her where he is touching her. They are so close she can smell his aftershave. She isn’t used to having people up so close in her personal space anymore. It should be distracting but it isn’t.

Karen can’t get the blood on the pavement out of her mind. She’s not panicking about it anymore. This might not even be about her and she would have given herself away if it weren’t for Christian providing the unwelcome distraction.

Matt couldn’t have seen anything and Christian was too busy hitting on her to care about anything else.

Whatever it was – and Karen was sure it wasn’t anything pretty – it wasn’t her problem. She has plenty of those anyway, no need to take on even more. If it was something really nasty, then sooner or later someone would say something.

Karen doesn’t want to think about it. Let it be someone else’s worry.

“We’re almost here. There is a railing to your left if you want to grip that, too. Seventeen stairs up.”

“Eighteen,” Matt says without any heat.

Karen counts the steps again. “Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’ve had a few weeks to get used to the area.”

Karen has moved into the dorms before the school year begun as well, although for different reasons. “You’ve got a favourite spot?”

“No. I sit wherever is an empty seat.”

“I like to sit by the windows,” Karen says. The windows are close to the entrance, they wouldn’t have to make their way through the whole room.

“Makes no difference to me. Lead the way,” Matt says.

The table Karen brought them to is already taken when they get there. There is just one girl sitting there, so Karen smiles down at her. “Hey, mind if we sit here?”

The girl looks up and makes a gesture with her hand which Karen takes as a go ahead. She has hot pink lipstick on and her killer winged eyeliner makes her eyes pop.

“Thanks,” Karen says.

The girl turns her attention back to her meal, a fringe of blond dyed hair falling into her face. It doesn’t seem like she’s eaten anything yet and she just grabs her fork and pokes at her mashed potatoes.

Karen takes Matt’s hand and guides it to the back of the chair, then turns to the girl.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

The eyes look up again, too bright and teary.

Karen sits down next to her, leaning close. The girl looks like she could use a hug but at the same time she looks like she might strangle Karen for trying to console her.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“You can tell us,” Matt pipes in, surprising Karen.

The pink lip trembles and a few tears escape. Karen’s eyes are drawn to the sight. “Hey, c’mon. What can we do?”

“It’s… it’s nothing, really.”

“It’s something that upsets you,” Matt says and Karen wonders how much he can tell just from the girl’s voice alone. He seems to be navigating the conversation well without the visual clues.

“It’s just that my boyfriend,” the girl says with a little sob, “he isn’t replying to my texts.”

“Oh, honey,” Karen says and decides to try her luck by reaching over the table to grab the girls’ shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze. It’s enough for the tears to start spilling in earnest.

“We… we had a fighter yesterday, at Dakota’s party. He stormed off and I stayed over at Dakota’s because he had out keys. I’ve been trying to call him but he’s not picking it up.”

“He’s probably still a little upset. Nothing you can’t work through. Just give it some time,” Karen says soothingly.

“No, you don’t know him. He’d never do that to me. I’ve got all my things at our place and he’s got the keys and he’s not picking up. He always picks up when I call him.”

Matt seems to relax into his seat. “You can try calling him again right now, if you want to.”

“I can’t. My phone died on me.”

“Have you been back to your place since yesterday?”

“No,” the girl says, wiping at her eyes and pulling away from Karen. “No, I didn’t have the guts. When he’s angry…”

“Is he violent?” Matt’s fist clenches into a fist on the table.

That gets them a laugh from the blonde. “My teddy bear? No. God, no. That boy doesn’t have a violent bone in his body.” She sniffs, then searches her handbag for a Kleenex. She starts dubbing at her eyes gently to dry the tears tracks without disrupting her makeup.

“You’re good,” Karen says automatically when the girl is done. “Still looking great.” She means the makeup but the girl pauses, holding the folded tissue to the corner of her eye.

“Thank you.”

Karen feels the blush creep to her cheeks.

“So your boyfriend,” Matt goes on, “what did you say his name was?”

“Foggy,” the girl says, blowing her nose.

“All right So, Foggy wouldn’t hurt you but you don’t want to go back to your place?”

“I just didn’t want to go there alone. If he tells me to leave or if he’s already got his things packed and is ready to leave… I couldn’t handle it.”

“What if we go with you?” Karen hears herself saying.

“Oh. Would you?”

“Of course,” Matt says. “I’m Matt.” He extends his hand across the table in the girl’s general direction.

The blond sniffles again but she gets up and walks the rest of the distance to shake Matt’s hand. “Thank you, Matt. I’m Marci.”

Karen glances at the clock in the hallway as they exit the canteen. She’s going to miss Latin. She doesn’t care. “I’m Paige,” she says.

**…**

Marci and Foggy’s apartment is not far, barely a fifteen minute walk from the campus.

Karen offers her arm to Matt who accepts it, leaning close into her again.

Marci raises her eyebrow. She opens her mouth and is about to make a comment, when Matt says, as if he could _hear_ the tension in the air between them.

“We’re not a couple. I’m just blind.”

Marci snaps her mouth. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Matt shrugs, adjusting his stride to match Karen’s pace. Marci is half a step in front of them to show them the way.

“So how long have you been friends?” Marci asks instead.

Matt’s charming smile is back. “Probably for about five hours?”

“Five and a half,” Karen says and has to bite back a smile when Marci blinks her false eyelashes at them rapidly.

“Oh. Okay. I thought¬… you seem to be so comfortable around each other.”

Karen has to give her that. But what probably should be weird doesn’t bother her in the slightest. “How about you and Foggy? You’ve been together longer than that?”

“Well, I… it’s not a clear cut, okay? We’ve been friends and then we were both still single and then it just sort of made sense to move in together to save money.”

“So it would be better to ask how long it’s been since you two started hooking up?”

Karen nearly stumbles when she hears Matt’s casual question but Marci takes it in stride, laughing. “That question would make more sense, yes. Hey, Matt. Do you know Milla? I’ve had a few classes with her last semester.”

“Milla?”

Marci nods. “Yeah, Milla Donovan. About this tall, kinda shy but really sweet and also blind.”

“Ah,” Matt says. “Um. I don’t think I’ve met. But maybe I’ll see her around.”

“I think you two could hit it off. She’s kind and quiet and she gives a mean neck massage. I can totally picture it in my mind.”

Matt doesn’t strike Karen as someone who would enjoy the quiet life. There is just something about him that makes her convinced Matt would be bored within two weeks. Of course, she doesn’t know him and she can’t speak for him, but she wants to open her mouth and say it anyway.

Before Matt could reply, Marci comes to a stop in front of them, drawing in a deep breath. “Okay, here we are. The front door’s never locked.”

“Five steps up,” Karen says.

“You guys are coming up with me, right?” Marci says as they follow her inside. “Or do you wanna wait for me here?” Her tone makes it clear she’d much prefer them to come with her.

“Of course we’re coming,” Matt agrees. “We’re right behind you, Marci.”

Karen eyes the staircase. “Which floor?”

“The fourth, no elevator,” Marci’s says, her voice and steps echoing.

Matt places one hand on the railing and doesn’t complain once. Karen trails behind.

On the fourth floor, Marci leads them to the left corridor and that’s when things get weird.

There is something in the air. Something chemical and aggressive. Judging from the way Marci scrunches up her nose, it’s not a common thing around here.

“Second door on the left,” Marci says tightly. “It’s… _aaah!_ ”

That’s when Karen sees the first smear. Or, the second, if she’s counting the one back in the campus. Shit. There is no running away from this, is there.

The smear is pooling out from the door Marci has just indicated.

“Foggy! Foggy open up!” Marci’s heels click through the hall as she crosses the remaining distance. She hits her palm hard against the door, causing enough rattle to wake up the whole building. Yet no doors open and no one pokes their nose out to see what’s it all about.

“Foggy!” Marci is half screaming, half sobbing. The composure she maintained through their walk is gone.

Matt’s voice rings out loud and clear. “Call 911. Have them send and ambulance. And the police.”

Karen gets her phone out and follows the instructions.

Matt lets go of her arm and takes a step forward, less wobbly than Karen would have thought. Matt reaches Marci an pulls her away from the door just as the lock turns and the door opens.

Marcie screams.

A guy is standing there. His hair is wild, his shirt torn, his feet bare, and there is blood _everywhere_. The guy looks completely out of it. His pupils are blown wide and he sways in the doorway.

“Wow, you’re hot,” he says but he’s not looking at Marci. Karen is inclined to think he isn’t looking at anything at all, he is just rambling.

“You’re a hot mess, buddy,” Matt says, though how he can tell is beyond Karen.

Her call is finally put through and she makes the conversation, mouth on autopilot as she describes the situation, asks Marci for the address and waits for the return call.

The guy doesn’t seem to be harmed – the blood he’s covered in is not his. He lists dangerously to one side. “M’ci?”

Marci flinches back. “Don’t come near me! Stay back!” She shrieks frantically.

“Whoa, whoa, buddy. Hang in there. Are you hurt?”

“Ouch,” the guy says and he opens up his palm. Blood wells up. A meat cleaver falls to the ground.

Marci starts screaming again.

Karen’s phone rings and she picks it up. She can barely hear the woman at the other end of the line. She thrusts her phone into Marci’s hand and ventures closer to Matt.

The guy – Foggy – doesn’t seem to be up for attacking anyone.

“He’s still high on something,” Matt assesses.

“You’re right,” Karen says, carefully stepping over the pool of blood in the doorway. “Hey, Foggy, has anyone else been in the flat with you?”

Foggy doesn’t reply, opening and closing his palm and frowning in confusion as the blood drips onto the linoleum in the hall. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, yeah, it hurts, buddy, I know,” Matt says soothingly. “But I want you to focus. Foggy, has there been anyone else with you?”

“Pretty,” Foggy says, giggling, and reaches with his bloodied fingers to touch Matt’s lips.

Somehow, Matt jerks away in time and wrestles Foggy’s hands into a grip, down and away from his face. There is a smear of blood on Matt’s cheek. Foggy pulls away and stares at the smear in confusion.

Karen turns away from them and takes a step further into the flat.

There are things scattered everywhere on the floor as someone ransacked the whole flat, from the bathroom to the balcony.

She can’t tell if there are any valuables missing or not. “Hello? Anyone?”

She makes it into the kitchen and she stops. She takes one look at the body on the floor, closes her eyes, the wave of nausea hitting her. She presses one hand to her mouth and backs out of the flat.

The smell is still filling her nostrils and she finally places it. Bleach.

“Tell them there is one body,” Karen tells Marci.

Marci is being talked down from her fit of hysteric by the women on the phone.

“Is there someone’s injured?” Matt asks.

“There is a body,” Karen repeats. She had been just as freaked out as Marci, the first time. She wasn’t screaming but she was frozen still and it took whole ten minutes before she could even move. “There is a body. Male. Twenty three to maybe twenty six.” _The name is Turk Barrett._

Marci is shaking like a leaf. The phone drops to the floor.

Foggy is trying to twist in Matt’s arms, his unkempt hair brushing his shoulders. “Nononononono.”

Matt grips him tighter, Karen can see the strain of his muscles.

Marci draws in a shuddering breath. “Did you kill him?”

“No. No. No.”

“Shhh,” Matt says.

“What have you done, oh my god, Foggy, what have you done? Did you kill him?”

Foggy becomes more and more agitated, as if waking up from a daze. He is looking directly at Marci now. “Who?”

Marci crumples down to the floor and Karen hurries to kneel down next to her. Marci looks up at her boyfriend through her tears. “Didn’t you say your mother wanted you to be a butcher?”

“W-where am I?” Foggy stammers and he is staring at the bloodied cleaver on the floor as if he’s seeing it for the first time.

“Shhh,” Matt repeats. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

**…**

Hours later, they end up at Matt’s place.

“There is enough space if you want to crash,” Matt says with a shrug.

Marci has nowhere to return to – her flat is a crime scene, no one can come in or out and no one is allowed to take anything away from there. Marci only has the things she’s had on her since Dakota’s party the day before. They can’t just leave her like that. They’ve all made their statements and Foggy has been brought in for questioning.

Karen offers to drop by her place and bring some stuff for Marci. She makes it in a record time, mostly because she always keeps a backpack ready in case she needs to bolt. She grabs that backpack and throws in a few more things for Marci. She grabs her textbooks, her laptop and all of her money, and locks the door behind her. She doesn’t plan on coming back anytime soon. She won’t be missed.

There are more things she’d like to take with her but her tiny apartment can’t look like she’s left it. Maybe she could sneak in later if she realizes she really needs something. But for now, it will be better if she stays away.

Karen doesn’t believe in coincidences. And if someone onto her, the last thing she wants is to sit like a duck. Especially if it is a certain someone, four in one.

When she knocks on Matt’s door, Matt lets her in.

“Where is Marci?”

“She was dead on her feet,” Matt says, then winces. “She’s sleeping in the guest room. I gave her one of my shirts.”

Karen steps inside and locks the door behind herself. “Can I stay the night too? I’d hate to be alone, all things considered.”

“Sure,” Matt says, moving out of the way.

Karen lets out a little relieved sigh. She’s going to overstay her welcome until Matt forcibly throws her out.

She walks down the hallway in the direction Matt has indicated. Matt locks the door behind her.

“Claire?” Matt calls out.

A head pops up from the couch. “Oh my God,” Claire says, scrambling up from the couch and rushing towards Karen. “Are you all right? Matt told me what happened. Jesus Christ. You can stay at mine for as long as you need. Never mind Matt.”

“Um,” Karen manages to say before she’s being hugged so hard she can’t breathe.

Matt clears his throat. “That’s not Marci.”

Claire lets go of her that instant. “Oh. Sorry.”

“I’m Paige,” Karen says, “I’m Marci’s… I was there when she found out.”

“You’re staying here tonight, though, right? Oh sweetie, that must have been a horrible day.”

Karen manages a smile.

“Matt, do you still have that chocolate cake I brought you?”

“The one you brought for yourself? Sure, Claire, it’s in the fridge.”

“I’ll be right back,” Claire says.

The cake is heavenly and does wonders for her nerves. Matt declines, because he isn’t all that much into chocolate – Karen _knew_ there was something wrong with the guy, she knew it! Who in their right mind doesn’t like chocolate? – and Karen wolfs down two slices.

Claire is fun to talk to, easygoing and friendly. She is happy to share all the embarrassing stories about Matt, which is exactly what Karen needs to take her mind off all the blood she’d seen today.

Matt is sitting in an armchair across the coffee table and pretends to be brooding. He keeps voicing his protests of Claire’s version of the stories but there is a fond smile on his face so Karen isn’t buying it.

“You’re such a shitty liar, Matt,” she says.

Matt grins so widely she can see his teeth. “You think?”

“Seriously. Your face is like an open book. Just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean none of us can. You need to learn how to guard your expressions if you don’t want people knowing about everything that crosses your mind.” She feels a little bad the moment she says it but Matt just frowns a little.

“Huh. Do I?”

Claire is quietly laughing into her sleeve. “I keep telling him all the time!”

“But I thought that’s because you’ve known me for so long!”

“Yeah,” Claire shrugs. “Obviously it’s not just me and my observant skills.”

“I’ll have to work on that,” Matt says grimly.

“Put that into your routine,” Claire laughs.

Matt’s jaw sets. “Claire, don’t–”

A phone starts ringing. It’s some pop song Karen can’t imagine either Claire or Matt setting as their ringtone.

Claire and Matt look at her and she looks at them. Then Matt raises to his feet. “It’s Marci’s!”

He takes a few steps to a small bookcase and grabs the ringing phone from the top of it. It’s still attached to the socket by a charging chord.

They can all hear the relieved voice on the other end of the line. “Marci, oh thank God. I mean thank you for picking up, I was so worried! They’ve only just let me go and I can’t return to our place and I realized you couldn’t be there either. Where are you, Marci? Are you all right?”

“This is not her,” Matt says when the guy pauses to take a breath. “This is Matt Murdock.”

“Who the fuck are you? And why do you have Marci’s phone? Is she okay?”

“Calm down,” Matt says. “Are you Foggy?”

“Yes.”

“Marci is staying with us. She’s okay.”

Foggy’s voice grows even more suspicious. “Then why doesn’t she answer her own phone?”

“She’s asleep.”

“Oh. No, I get it. Shit. She doesn’t want to speak to me. I understand. Just… is she there? Tell her I’m sorry, okay? And tell her I haven’t been plotting to kill anyone, this is all just a huge misunderstanding. They took my DNA samples and I’m sure it will all clear out but it will take–”

“About two weeks for the tests to be conclusive, I know, Foggy,” Matt interrupts Foggy’s rambling. “Listen, you can tell her yourself. She’s really asleep right now but if you don’t have a place to stay tonight, you can come over.”

Karen sucks in a breath. She couldn’t have heard that right.

“Are you sure?”

Matt tells him the address.

Karen shoots a horrified look at Claire but Claire looks nonplussed, like it’s every day that Matt – stupid, trusting, helpless Matt – is inviting crime suspects for a sleepover.

“He has a type, doesn’t he?” Karen asks Claire in a hushed tone.

Claire pats her hand, sympathetic. “He attracts the darkness like a hellfire. You get used to it.”

**…**

Matt gets up to answer the door and there is some dialogue, too muffled for Karen to hear.

Then Foggy walks into the room, every step slow and careful, like he’s expecting something to jump out of the shadows and kill him on the spot.

“Hi,” he says when he spots Karen and Claire.

“Hi, Foggy,” Karen says weakly.

“Uh. Thank you, man,” Foggy says, gingerly sitting down into the armchair. “I really appreciate that you believe me.”

The corner of Matt’s mouth twitches. “I have a blind faith in you, Foggy.”

Matt takes off his sunglasses and wipes their lenses with the hem of his shirt. They can all hear Foggy’s startled intake of breath.

“Oh my God, that’s why you said you haven’t seen anything,” Foggy blurts out, then he winces. “Shit. But I swear I haven’t unalived anyone.”

“Unalived?” Karen mouths at Claire.

Foggy notices. “Ugh. It’s an expression my classmate uses. Err, used.”

Claire meets Karen’s worried gaze.

“He dropped out! Jesus, he just dropped out, I swear I haven’t killed anyone, ever!”

“I know,” Matt says, glasses obscuring his eyes once again. He places one hand on Foggy’s shoulder as he walks past. “We really believe you.” He sounds so convinced it takes them all aback, including Foggy.

“You do? Great! I mean, horrible, because no one else does – but, gee, thanks man. Fuck, my head hurts.”

“Has anyone checked you for the stuff that’s been in your system?”

“Everyone thought I smoke pot or something. But yeah, they gave me an IV and well, that’s about it. They’ve been questioning me for hours.”

“An IV,” Matt scoffs. “Claire?”

“I’ve heard the man, Matt,” Claire sighs, getting up and picking the plates from her and Karen’s cake.

Claire disappears into the kitchen but comes back a few minutes later, a medical kit under one arm and a glass of water in the other.

She orders Foggy around until she can get to him easily and check his vitals. Matt and Karen watch the whole examination silently.

“You’ll live,” Claire finally says, disappearing into the kitchen again. She’s back seconds later, handing Foggy a damp handkerchief.

Foggy folds it in thirds and places it on his forehead. He closes his eyes. “Hmm. Much better. Thanks.”

Claire crosses her arms and doesn’t move.

“Claire? I can feel you staring at me.”

Claire narrows her eyes. “I remember your mother.”

Foggy groans.

“And I remember you,” Claire goes on. “You used to be such a chubby kid. Why aren’t you at school, Franklin?”

“Okay, so first, never ever call me that again, and second, I’m taking a gap year.”

“Why?”

“To figure out what I want to do with my life,” Foggy says but his answer is lost in Matt’s sudden outburst.

“To piss of your mother, more like,” Matt says bluntly.

Foggy blinks one eye open and shoots Matt a nasty glare. “Low man, low. I’m glaring at you, in case you can’t tell.”

“I can tell. One wrong move and I’ll be ten feet under.”

“Damn right!”

“So, a gap year?” Karen prompts.

“Me and my pal Brett,” Foggy says, leaning back against the couch and staring into his lap. “We were supposed to backpack through South Europe.”

“That clearly didn’t happen,” Claire says.

“No. Brett won a scholarship at the academy.”

Claire takes a seat next to Foggy, who grumpily scoots aside. “And you didn’t get into that law school?”

“Of course I didn’t get in,” Foggy says. “I threw the test. I _didn’t_ want to get in.”

“Maybe not then,” Matt says.

“Definitely not back then. Just because my mother wanted… never mind.”

“I thought your mother wanted you to become a butcher?” Karen asks, remembering Marci’s outburst in the hall in front of her and Foggy’s apartment.

“That was a joke. Or maybe not. Who knows, when it comes to my mother it could go either way. But it was just one time! She said it when she was really angry at me and she said she wished I would do something useful with my time, like becoming a butcher. She was working on cracking a very tedious case at the time, so that’s her excuse.”

“Your mum’s a lawyer?”

“An attorney.”

“You’d better give her a call,” Karen says. When they all turn their heads to her, she wavers. “Er. I didn’t mean it like that, like you need a lawyer. It’s just that she might learn from the system and it’s better she hears it first from you rather than from her colleagues.”

“You’re night,” Foggy groans, picking up his phone.

His mother answers surprisingly quickly, given how late it is. “Franklin? Honey, what’s wrong?”

“I hate you,” Foggy mouths to Karen over the speaker.

**…**

Turns out they don’t have to wait two weeks to clear Foggy’s name like Matt thinks. The very next morning, they are woken up by someone persistently ringing the front door bell.

Claire, Foggy and Karen have fallen asleep in the living room. Karen’s back hurts as she struggles to her feet.

Matt is already at the door, answering. It’s two police officers. They share a look when they enter and see everyone waking up on the couch and armchairs.

“Good morning,” one of the officer says grimly and Karen can already tell this day won’t be a good day. “We need to ask you a couple more questions.”

“Uh, sure,” Matt says. “Please, sit down.”

The officer shakes his head. “Afraid we’ll have to bring you in separately.”

“Has something else happened?” Karen asks. Her gut’s telling her it has.

“No, we just need a few more answers.”

Matt stills, his head titled to one side. “They’ve found another body, haven’t they?”

The officers look at each other again. “All right kids, everyone shut up. From now one, no one says a word, are we clear?”

They all nod.

“Marci is sleeping upstairs,” Matt says.

The officer pinches the bridge of his nose, then turns to his partner. “Go get her, I’ll get them into the car.”

Marci freaks out when she sees Foggy, which only delays them further.

Karen is missing so much school she’s not even counting it. Maybe her and law simply wasn’t meant to be.

They can all provide alibi for Foggy because there is no way Foggy could have been sobbing into the couch at Matt’s apartment and be at the other side of the town at the same time to kill Ranskahov.

Ranskahov has been found laying face down on a pavement not far away from the campus.

Karen remembers him asking her once for the directions with a thick Russian accent. The whole exchange couldn’t have taken more than five minutes.

Ranskahov’s body is left in the exact same spot Karen had talked to him. She doesn’t believe in coincidences.

When asked, she denies recognizing him. She’s in enough trouble already. So far no one has tried checking her records but once someone does – there is _always_ this one idiot who does more than is required – she’s done.

Karen doesn’t even try to go to the rest of her classes. She stays at Matt’s place because she feels safe there. It’s an illusion – she’s not safe anywhere, this is all just a waiting game – but she’ll take whatever comfort she can get.

Marci doesn’t come back with them, taking Claire up on her offer to bunk with her. Karen isn’t afraid of Foggy and Matt either isn’t either or he’s got a death wish, because the three of them head back to Matt’s flat.

Foggy was advised by Claire, rather persistently, not to even look at any alcohol until he’s sure there is so residue of the toxins he’s been hit with. Matt makes tea for the three of them in solidarity.

While Foggy isn’t suspected of killing Ranskahov, he remains a prime suspect of the first murder.

“God, I hate this,” Foggy groans, running a hand through his hair. “I hope they get the DNA results soon.”

Karen doesn’t share Foggy’s optimism. She has a feeling only Foggy’s and Barrett’s DNA is going to be found all over the flat. Mary is crazy but not stupid.

“You were too high to clean the scene anyway,” Karen says, sipping her tea, then adding three spoons of sugar. “I remember smelling the bleach and they’ve mentioned the scene’s been scrubbed.”

“You’re right,” Matt says, sitting up straighter.

“Man, I wish I stayed at the party,” Foggy sighs, blowing into his cup of tea.

Matt clucks his tongue. “Why didn’t you?”

Karen puts in another spoonful of sugar and watches it dissolve in her cup. “Marci mentioned you two had an argument.”

“Well, yeah. Kinda.”

“The police asked me if I think you knew Barrett. They suspect he was making passes at Marci and it pissed you off. A lot of people saw you and Marci arguing that night.”

Foggy scratches his head. “It’s not like that.”

Karen sips her tea, watching Foggy from her half-lidded eyes. “Dakota said Marci told her she wished you two would break already.”

Foggy sets his tea down, the porcelain clinks against the table. “I swear I wasn’t jealous of her.”

“Okay,” Matt allows. “But why would you stay with her if she wanted to break up?”

Foggy keeps gnawing at his lip for a few more moments but then and lets out a long sigh and says, “We weren’t even dating, Marci and I.”

“Yeah, Marci told us about your arrangement,” Matt smirks.

Foggy’s shoulders drop and he seems to shrink into his seat. “Oh. She did? That’s…” Foggy shoots a look at Matt, who, of course, doesn’t react. “… awkward.”

“We aren’t judging you,” Karen says so the silence doesn’t stretch. Matt is doing his weird head tilt again, face scrunching up. “It’s okay. It’s just that I don’t get what you were arguing about.”

“There was this one girl at the party,” Foggy says slowly.

Karen tries to keep the judgement from her voice. Marci is one hell of a girl and if Foggy can’t see that, shame on him. Marci deserves to be treated better than that. “Oh Foggy, seriously? Another girl?”

“Yeah. And of course Marci couldn’t just go after her while I was there as well. So she wanted us to break up and I obviously didn’t want to.”

Karen nearly spills the tea on herself. “ _Marci_ wanted to…?”

“She was sick of being my beard and I get it, I really do. You don’t know my mother but Marci is saint for sticking up with me for all this time. I didn’t want it to end, I’d have to tell my mum about how Marci ‘left me’ and mum would get suspicious again and it would be… well, unpleasant. So, we argued, Marci and I. Loudly. In the kitchen. I think it was Dakota who broke us apart. Marci can get really intense, like a shark smelling blood, you know? But of course I had logical arguments to match hers.”

Matt feels around for his cup of tea, his fingers slowly closing around the whole cup and raising it to his lips. He takes a long, deliberate sip and Karen has a feeling he’s hiding his smile behind the brim of the cup. “So this really wasn’t about you killing Barrett in a fit of jealousy.”

“Heavens, no!” Foggy exclaims.

“I think it’s safe to assume Marci wouldn’t go home with him either,” Matt says, tone neutral.

“Of course she wouldn’t, Matt, don’t be an idiot,” Foggy says, exasperated.

Karen feels the wall closing in on her. This isn’t about either Foggy or Marci. Neither of them have any connection to the second murder. But she does.

At first it’s just a nagging suspicion that keeps her up the whole night, tossing around to the sound of Foggy’s snoring.

But when Christian’s mutilated body is discovered the next day, Karen is absolutely certain it is about her.

There is no evidence and no one is going to make an arrest based on her allegations. Paige Angel, for all purposes, doesn’t even exist. She can’t put anyone behind the bars, and most certainly not Virgin Mary, with her big brown eyes and stupid perfect auburn hair. Karen Page hasn’t been able to do it either.

The third murder shakes them all. Karen keeps expecting Matt to politely tell her to move out of his flat but it never happens, Matt just accepts her presence with the same ease as he sidesteps the heap of her clothes on the floor.

Foggy doesn’t stay with them, he’s gone the next day, making a visit to his mother after all. Some things were better explained in person, Foggy claimed. Karen thought it was easier to lie to someone’s face when you could distract them with wide gestures and the sole fact that you showed up home again, after god knows how long.

**…**

Someone knocks on Matt’s front door.

Karen stares for a moment but Matt doesn’t seem to be up. She moves to the door. She can take a message. She can’t stay in hiding forever. Small steps.

She throws the door open and promptly starts backing into the hallway with a muffled cry.

“Hi, Karen! How’re you?” Foggy says.

“Fine, thanks. What are you doing here?” She takes a step back and hits the chest of drawers with her hip. She hisses in pain.

There is a photo on top of the drawers and Karen stomach drops when she looks at the picture and recognizes both Matt and the girl that is hugging him.

Why would a blind guy keep a picture? Matt isn’t this sentimental. Karen stares at the girl in the picture, shivers running down her spine. There is no mistaking her. It’s Mary. Judging from the sweet smile and coy look, it’s the Virgin Mary.

Karen wonders if Matt has ever met the other three versions.

This is bad, Karen thinks. Really bad.

She wants to run knocking on Matt’s door and demand answers. But how does she even begin describing Mary to someone who has never seen her?

“…and then Matt said I should stop by if I found anything interesting.”

“Oh,” Karen says, focusing back on Foggy. There is a thick folder Foggy is holding up for her to take. “I can give this to him.”

“That would be great. He’s not home?” Foggy asks, trying to take a peek over Karen’s shoulder.

“I’ll tell him to call you back,” Karen says, taking a look at the files. There are newspaper clippings. Strange accidents happening all over the town. Reports of a man who has been seen running across the rooftops, short time after said accidents happened.

“He said it was important,” Foggy says, biting his lips.

“I’ll give it to him, I promise,” Karen says, eyes skimming the articles to find anything, anything at all, that could be connected back to her.

She all but shoves Foggy out of the door. She is making all sorts of crazy explanations in her mind as she climbs up the stairs. Why does Matt’s flat even have a staircase and why Matt insists on sleeping in one of the upstairs bedrooms is beyond Karen.

Matt’s door is unlocked, his room is empty.

She waits for a few minutes, expecting him to come out of the bathroom any minute, but the flat is quiet. Eventually, she gives up, leaves Foggy’s folder on the bed and paddles back downstairs.

She ends up asking Claire about the photograph.

“Oh, that one? That’s quite recent, actually. Mary Mezinis,” Claire says with a little shrug. “Nice girl. Very sweet. Too sweet if you asked me.”

“Sure,” Karen forces out and shoves her hands into the pockets of her jeans because they are shaking so badly Claire would be bound to notice.

**…**

Matt comes back shortly after the midday and he doesn’t offer any explanation. It’s not like he has to tell her anything but he’s behaving oddly. He just nods his head in thanks when Karen relays Foggy’s message and disappears upstairs.

Karen has been jumpy all afternoon so it’s no wonder she freaks out when the lock turns without warning while she’s sitting in the living room and trying to cram all what she’s missed in the classes. 

Her breath catches in her throat.

The door flies open and a tall woman saunters forward. It’s not Mary. Her hair is jet black and the tips have been dyed bright blue. She’s wearing an eye shadow of the same electric colour and a blue lipstick. Her dress is tight-fitting and _short_.

Matt appears art Karen’s side, hovering worriedly. Karen has no idea how he does that. She automatically shifts a little closer to him, seeking the protection he silently offers. There is something instinctive in that and Karen can’t figure out why it helps her so much because the guy is blind, for crying out loud and would be about as much help as a Labrador puppy.

“Matthew?” The girls drawls out, an amused smile playing on her lips as she assesses Karen. Karen feel her cheeks warm up under the scrutiny. She is all too aware of the clothes she’s wearing. Jeans, sneakers and an oversized sweater, her hair in a pony tail, secured by a simple black elastic band.

“Electra! What a surprise.” Matt turns to Karen. “This is Elektra Natchios, I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”

Of course she did. She and half the city.

“Hi!” She offers awkwardly and when Matt doesn’t continue, she says, “I’m Paige.”

“Hello Paige,” Elektra purrs. “You seem to be a little taken aback. Sure Matt hasn’t mentioned me?”

“Elektra is my landlord, that’s why she has the keys,” Matt explains.

“And as your landlord,” Elektra says, “I’d like to know who is your _friend_. If she’s staying, she’d better be paying her share of the rent.”

“She’s just a classmate, Elektra.”

“Sure she is. Do you invite all your classmates up here to stay the night?”

Matt seems to be al loss of words.

Elektra shakes her head, laughing. “Well, I see you’re already busy tonight. I’ll catch up with you _later_ , Matt.”

She moves back towards the door. Her heels are even higher than Marci’s were and Karen wishes she could wear heels this high this confidently. She usually ends up looking like a waddling duck.

“Bye, Paige!”

“Goodbye!” Karen calls out.

By the time Matt reacts, the door is already being shut closed. “Elektra!”

The silence seems to be ringing. Matt sighs heavily, takes off his sunglasses and rubs a hand over his face.

“So… that was Elektra Natchios,” Karen says.

“Yes.”

“Natchios, who is your landlady,” Karen adds.

“Well, this is her building and since she is never here, she lets me stay here instead.”

“She just lets you stay here?”

“I pay the rent,” Matt mutters. He still looks rather embarrassed about the whole exchange that has just happened.

Karen knows the signs. “You can’t be with her!” she blurts out.

“What?”

“You can’t, Matt, I’m serious. You can’t be with Electra.”

“Ah, Elerctra,” Matt sighs. “And why is that? Is it that she’s dangerous, or that you’re jealous?”

“Yes, what? No! Matt! Would you just listen?”

“Is it because of her family? I thought you of all people would be all ‘What’s in a name?’”

Karen moves and gips him tightly. Matt doesn’t flinch, as if he could see her coming. “The names! Oh my god! That’s it!”

Matt is puzzled by the sudden change of topic. “What names?”

“First Barrett, then Ranskahov. Now they’ve found Christian Blake.”

_Turk Kaleb Barrett. Vladimir Alexei Ranskahov. Christian Raymond Blake._

Matt shifts his weight from one feet to another and crosses his arms, dislodging Karen’s hand in the process. “Yes, I know that. What about their names?”

It’s their names what’s getting them killed. That, and the fact that she’s met them all. Christian’s constant attempts to woo her. Barrett helping her move into the dorms. Shit. “Matt, what’s your middle name?”

“Why are you asking? I don’t even know your _name_ ,” Matt says.

Karen stills. “Wow, Matt, really? After all we’ve been through and you don’t remember my name?”

“I never said I didn’t remember your name. I never knew it.”

“It’s Paige,” Karen hisses.

Matt tilts his head to one side. “That’s not your name.” He starts to walk away before Karen can say anything.

She is frozen to the spot, heart hammering in her chest. She’s frightened. A cold shiver prickles down her spine and her breath catches in her chest. She feels like she could be sick.

Then there are hands on her back, warm and soothing. “Hey, hey. C’mon, breathe with me.”

“Ng’ht,” Karen chokes out.

“Shh. It’s okay, everything’s okay. I’m sorry, just breathe, all right? I’m really sorry.”

She manages to wreck away. “Don’t touch me,” she gasps. As she turns around to face Matt, she knocks away his cane. It clatters noisily against the wooden boards. She never realized when it appeared in his hands. She thought he didn’t have to use it in his flat. Hell, does he ever use it?

She draws in a breath and gets herself under control. “Sorry. Just. You startled me.”

Matt doesn’t ask if she means that he invaded her personal space or if it is what he’d said before that.

Karen bites her lip and bends to pick Matt’s cane. She finds Matt’s hand and presses the cane into it. “Here,” she says.

“Thanks.”

What a day she thinks. Had it been different time and different place, she’d be sneaking out to the dark streets and getting her fix.

“I’m so sorry, Matt.”

She says at the same time as Matt opens his mouth, “How about a coffee?”

“A coffee?”

“C’mon, I could use a cup myself.”

**…**

Frank Enzo Castle does _not_ become the fourth victim.

Karen recognizes the guy but she doesn’t really know him. It’s just that his dog has nearly run out into traffic because of something he’d seen on the pavement across the street and Karen was right there to grab the leash and tie it against the nearest lamp post so the dog’s pull wouldn’t be so great.

The damn creature nearly tugged her into the path of the incoming cars anyway, it was so strong. But then Frank caught up, bracing his muscular arms around her and wrenching the dog back.

The moment the dog’s eyes couldn’t see the target, the dog calmed down and looked bashfully up at Frank, who in turn looked about ready to tear him a new one.

Frank kept showing up with a cup of thank-you-coffee for a couple of weeks before dropping off the face of Earth.

Karen has only just run into him again the last week and they made a small talk and Frank introduced her to Maria Oppedisano, a blond bombshell that clung to Frank like a vine.

And now here they were, in Matt’s flat, with Claire carefully stitching up the wound on Frank’s back.

“What happened?”

“Didn’t see it coming,” Frank grunts.

Claire takes his skin between her thumb and forefinger and with one efficient tug, she spikes the needle through. Claire seems to feel Karen’s stare, her lips quirking up in a smile. “Hasn’t Matt mentioned I’m in a medical school?”

“Good grades only come with a lot of practise,” Frank says, twisting his head to look over his shoulder to see Claire’s work.

Matt comes into the room with a glass of water and two painkillers. Frank only takes the glass.

“What happened,” Matt says, sitting down and tossing the pills onto the table, “is that I found him bleeding on my doorstep.”

“Bullshit,” Frank says. “I was miles away from here, heading south.”

“Have you checked for a concussion, Claire?”

Claire’s smile is way too relaxed. Something amused flickers in her eyes as she says, “There must be some brain damage for sure.”

“Hey! Fuck you!” Frank snaps.

“Careful now, remember who’s stitching you up with a very sharp and pointy object.”

“Someone jumped me on my run,” Frank tells Karen. “I tried to hit them back but shit, they were fast. There were probably two or three guys.”

Matt clears his throat. “There was just one attacker, wasn’t there?”

Frank turns so he’s staring at the wall. He’s silent for a moment, then he admits, “Yeah. Kid kicked my ass. Overhand right caught my head, then one front kick and I was seeing stars.”

“But then?”

“Dunno. Someone joined the fight. Round kick, hook punch – and my attacker was fleeing. Next thing I know I’m here.”

“Hold still,” Claire says. “And you, Matt, stop distracting him.”

Matt holds his hands up and moves away, closer to the window, although he can’t see anything. Karen joins him. She can’t see anything either because the window is facing the side wall of the next building. There is just a peeling plaster and a rusty fire-escape.

“Wow,” she says quietly. “It’s all the dangerous types, am I right?”

“It’s not my fault that the prettiest girls flock to me.”

“It’s not just girls, Matt. There is Frank,” she jerks her chin back to where Claire is snipping her scissors unnecessary close to Frank’s head. “And you should have seen Foggy. He was staring at you as if you’d hung the moon.”

Matt perks up. “Really?”

Karen snorts. “Really. I know what I’ve seen.”

Matt must take Karen’s word for it because the little absentminded smile stays with him for the rest of the day.

**…**

Karen wishes she could shake everything off like Matt does. She can’t do it. She wakes up the next day and stares at the ceiling of Matt’s apartment. Everything seems to bubble up to the surface.

She musters only enough willpower to get up and get dressed. Matt finds her staring at her reflection in the mirror in the hallway.

“This is my fault,” Karen says brokenly. “This is all my fault.”

She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, adjusts the strap of her backpack.

“This isn’t your fault,” Matt says immediately, but he is wrong.

“I should have stayed away from you to keep you safe. Now I’ve made a mess out of your life and I’m so sorry for that. Matt, you have to believe me, I’m sorry.”

Matt is swiftly moving across the room, his steps sure. He must know the layout really well. He gathers her in his arms. “I believe you. I know you’re sorry but none of this is your fault. I don’t see how it could be.”

“She’s killing them because of me,” Karen says so quietly that she is certain Matt won’t hear her.

The arm Matt’s thrown over her shoulders twitches. “What?”

“I know who is the killer,” she says in a rush. A moment longer and she’ll lose her nerves. “Last time we met she went by Mary Walker. And she’s killing them just to make a point.”

“What point?”

_Turk K. Barrett. Vladimir A. Ranskahov. Christian R. Blake._

“She’s toying with me. The victims – the initials of their middle names spell my real name.”

“Oh.”

Matt is way too calm.

He also never called her by the false name.

With a sneaking suspicion, she asks, “Did you know Paige isn’t my name?”

“Yes. And I know you’re not from Saco either. And I don’t care, honestly, I don’t care. Please don’t freak out again, you’re safe, I promise. Completely safe. It’s okay.”

“How do you know? This is not okay, Matt. Who told you?” Even if Matt is on her side, whoever told Matt might be dangerous.

“No one told me. Calm down.”

Karen closes her eyes. There is nothing more she could have done. God knows she’s been as careful as she could.

“I know you haven’t been honest with me,” Matt says. “And I don’t care. Because I haven’t been completely honest with you either.”

And then Matt tells her about his senses.

When he finishes, she’s still having hard time wrapping her head around it. But one important thing stands out in all the confusion in her mind. “So Foggy really is completely innocent?”

“Yes.” Matt sounds absolutely certain.

“We have to help him.”

“Of course. We need enough evidence to hand over to the investigators so there won’t be any doubt.”

“It’s still disgusting that these things keep happening.”

“That’s why we’re here, no? You and me, at this school, I mean.”

Karen nods. “Yes, that’s what keeps me going. The chance to make even a little difference.”

“Exactly.” Matt offers her a paper tissue. “What can you tell me about the real killer?”

There isn’t much that she knows for certain. “Her name is Mary. And her time is ticking.”

“We’ll make sure of it,” Matt assures her. “Anything else?”

There is so much she doesn’t know where to begin.

She needs to tell him how she met Mary at the hospital. Mary was there with fractures bones from having fallen out of a window and Karen was coming five times a week to visit her boyfriend who got his leg broken at a football practise. Mary, Virgin Mary, charmed her way into their lives. It ended in blood and tragedy – if Bloody Mary couldn’t have him, Karen wouldn’t have her boyfriend either – and no one was ever able to pin the accident to Mary. But Karen knew. Karen knew and she was scared because she’d seen the look in Bloody Mary’s face and it was one that still haunted her dreams.

Karen changed her name and enrolled into the law school in NYC as Paige. She should have known there was no running away from Mary.

“Just some of my theories,” Karen says for now. There is the picture on top of Matt’s drawers and she still has no idea when it’s been taken. But if Mary is stalking her again, she’ll be ready. This time, it’s her and Matt and the others. Because she’s darn sure Matt will do anything to clear Foggy’s name. And Marci would help, too. Karen won’t have to face Mary alone.

“We’ll start writing everything down tomorrow. And we need to talk to Foggy. There must be something he remembers.”

“Yeah, yeah okay,” Karen says. “Matt?”

Matt tilts his head. He’s listening.

“My name is Karen.”

Matt’s smile is beaming. “And you’re not Angel, I presume?”

Karen laughs. “Definitely no angel.”

“Karen,” Matt says slowly, testing the name. “It fits you.”

“Karen Page, nice to meet you, Matt,” she says and sticks out her hand.

It’s only a second before she feels the warmth of Matt’s touch.

“Page and Murdock,” Matt says. “I can picture that working out.”

“Yeah, me too,” Karen says.

“But we need to stop skipping classes,” Matt adds with a cheeky grin. “Or we’ll never get anywhere.”

Karen laughs, falling forward against Matt’s chest, resting her head against his chest. Matt’s shoulders are also shaking with laughter as he pulls her into a hug.

_Page and Murdock._

She rather likes the ring of it.


End file.
